Soldier's Task
by Ragnar-Pendon
Summary: Hmmmm... Ragna characters in the not so near future... Please review
1. Chapter 01: Surreallity

I DON'T OWN RAGNAROK ONLINE NOR ANY CHARACTER THAT WAS CREATED BY GRAVITY (Won't mind if I do though) . . . ALL EXCEPT FOR THE CHARACTERS I MADE FOR THIS FIC.

ALL CHARACTERS AND EVENTS IN THIS FIC ARE, WELL, FICTIONAL. ANY RESEMBLANCE TO ANY REAL OR ACTUAL PEOPLE / EVENT IS TOTALLY COINCIDENTAL

This is also a poor attempt of mine to mimic a SWAT op, The Matrix, and an adventure thriller movie . . . so please, bear with me if it sucks . . . and yes, this is an RO fic, just wait for the next chapters.

Oh well . . . on with the fic!!!

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RAGNAROK ONLINE FANFIC

SOLDIER'S TASK 

By: RAGNAR (that really is my name)

Chapter 01: Surreallity 

The year was 2045.

Due to the insisting terrorist attacks occurring in the city of Neyus, the NPD and the National Army combined their resources to form an organization armed and trained for the detection and suppression of any terror threat – the Red Talon Counter Terrorist Force.

Erin and her squad of four men were on standby inside their stealth chopper. The machine's twin rotors gave off an almost silent, high pitched hissing as it kept them on the air above their target building.

Despite the silence outside their chopper, the inside was filled with the engine's noise. Erin knew that the developers couldn't place sound sinks inside because that would eliminate every means of communication within the chopper – such devices affect even radio waves.

Their LT. was shouting at them their last minute briefing. "ALL RIGHT, YOU NOOBS! THIS IS YOUR FIRST MISSION, SO LOOK NICE FOR THE CAMERAS!"

Erin couldn't help but raise an eyebrow on that last comment. OK . . . the news always loves it if the Red Talon dispatches new recruits. Must be because the reporters think that newbies are more prone to errors.

The LT. then shouted more information about their mission. "YOUR MISSION IS TO FIND THE TERRORISTS SUSPECTED OF BOMBING THE WESTERN SIDE OF THE CITY'S CENTRAL GENERATOR, AND BRING THEM TO CUSTODY.

"EACH OF YOU IS ARMED WITH AN MP5 WITH TWO MAGS AND THREE FLASHBANGS . . . ENGAGE ONLY IF NECESSARY!"

"IF EVER ANY OF YOU RUNTS FORGET ANYTHING ABOUT THIS MISSION, YOU CAN JUST VIEW THE INFO AGAIN FROM THE G-SCANNER FITTED IN YOUR VISORS!"

A voice crackled in the chopper radio. "Stork-1 this is Gopher-3 . . . Information verified on the worms' location. You are clear to drop the babies in the chimney . . . I repeat, you are go – over."

The LT. shouted out his last order. "ALL RIGHT SERGEANT GOMEZ! IT'S YOUR CUE!"

Erin grabbed a rope and fastened it to her harness, the four men with her followed suit.

The five of them jumped off the chopper and rappelled down as soon as the door slid open. The chopper's wince steadily slowed down their fall until their boots touched the hotel's roof.

They stealthily, yet quickly, moved towards the roof access. After they picked the lock open, Erin signalled for two of them to move forward first.

Two beeps on their comm-links told them that the area was clear.

They searched the whole top floor until they found a locked door.

Erin whispered into her comm-link. "Gopher, this is Team Leader. We need a sat-scan for room number 10-57 – over."

After a few moments of waiting, the van outside replied, "Team Leader, this is Gopher. We read six men in that location. They are all armed, I repeat, they are all armed – over."

Erin whispered again, "Gopher, this is Team Leader. Request for live feed in room 10-57."

A 3D map slowly appeared in her view as the data was downloaded into her visor. It showed a medium sized room. Red dots marked the spots where the enemy stood.

Erin signalled her men to position themselves opposite the hinge side of the doorway.

Hope this works . . .

She knocked on the door. The dots suddenly stopped moving within the map while one slowly approached the door.

As soon as the doorknob moved, Erin pulled off the pin from one of her flashbangs.

A ski-masked man's head peeked out of the door. One of her squad-mates jumped up and grabbed the man and dragged him outside, all the while kicking the door open.

Gunfire filled the air while concrete and plaster burst apart from the bullets that came out from the room. Erin threw her flashbang right inside. When she did so, the men inside shouted in some foreign language in a panicked manner.

A few moments later, they heard a loud thud while a flash of light streamed out of the doorway.

While the terrorists were still groaning, Erin and her team rushed in, MP5's at the ready. She shouted to everyone in the room, "FREEZE, NOBODY MOVE!!!"

She was shocked to find only four people in the living room.

Suddenly, a man shouted to the far left of the room, _"VALDAS REKHOS MA'IDEN!"_

Their squad medic, Ramirez, violently flipped over backwards when the man fired his shotgun – in close range. The air filled with the spray of blood and shreds of nylon from Ramirez's kevlar vest. He never had the chance to scream.

Her squadmates all turned their weapons towards the newcomer and fired. The terrorist twitched from one position to another as dozens of bullets pelted his body.

A pool of blood flowed out from where the man dropped dead.

They had but a split second to know that the flashbang's effects already wore off. Erin and her three remaining squadmates had run back out the room to take cover from the barrage of bullets the terrorists let out on them.

Erin was already screaming at her comm-link. "GOPHER, GOPHER, THIS IS TEAM LEADER. WE ARE UNDER HEAVY FIRE! MAN DOWN! I REPEAT, MAN DOWN!"

The voice in her comm-link replied, "Stay in your position, Team Leader. Reinforcements will arrive in five minutes!"

She heard a familiar rolling sound on the floor close to them.

Erin looked down . . .

"GRENADE!!!"

Too late . . . while she was already jumping down to avoid the blast, her squadmates weren't so quick.

Erin heard her three companions cry out as the grenade exploded. She felt a sharp pain on her leg when shrapnel lodged on her thigh.

The other's were either dead or down. She can't hold the doorway on her own against for men. Erin had to run.

She limped away as fast as she can. A trail of blood dripped down from her leg as she tried to escape. Erin tried to recall the building's map in her visor, only to find out that her g-scanner was broken from the blast.

As she tried to contact the support van outside, she only heard static from her comm-link.

Could things get any worse?

When Erin turned around a corner, she heard the enemy talking as they pursued her. She can't understand them, however, as they were speaking in that strange language.

She took out another flashbang and threw it towards them. She heard their alarmed voices as she limped away again.

Erin heard a thud on the wall behind her.

She looked back to see her flashbang had been thrown back.

"Oh shit . . ."

The next thing she knew was that her vision turned white and the only thing she can hear was the ringing in her ears.

Luckily, her visor was still able to automatically clear out the flashbang's effects.

As the glare cleared from her vision, she saw a man aiming a rifle at her. Erin expected blood and pain when she heard the rifle fire. Instead, the man missed.

_My lucky day? _She thought.

Erin brought up her MP5 and fired at him. Blood burst out of his body from the five holes her weapon made on him.

She took out the SMG's magazine and replaced it with a fresh one.

As Erin turned around to escape, she screamed when another terrorist shot her on the leg. The bullet ripped through her muscles and bone before it exited out her knee.

Erin dropped to the ground, her right hand holding her MP5; the other hand was clutching her left leg while attempting to back away using her right leg. Erin tried to fire back, but the terrorist already fired another round that went through her shoulder.

She was already squeezing the trigger when the muscles that kept her arm up were blasted apart. Instead of hitting the man, every round that came out of her weapon went through her right leg.

Erin was never more terrified her entire life. All she could think at the moment was to crawl away from the man.

Her world went white with pain coming from every part of her body. The terrorist slammed his rifle butt on her stomach. She tried to double over, but even that brought more pain.

The man's face was but bare inches from hers as he looked into her eyes. The man had strange, ruby red eyes. Erin didn't pay the man that much attention; she just wanted to get away from him.

And then he spoke, "Is this what this the best warriors this world has to offer us? Women and children?"

Despite the pain, Erin asked through gritted teeth, "What do you want, you sick son of a bitch?"

The man's hand found her throat. With inhuman strength, he lifted her up a good distance away from the floor.

She can't breath. She gave out short choking sounds as the man kept her windpipe shut.

His voice was cold like ice as he spoke, "Me? I just want to hear the Choirs once more."

Another man's voice rang out behind her, "Let her go, Nathan. She has nothing to do with our quarrel."

Nathan tossed Erin aside like a rag doll. The pain threatened to knock her unconscious if the team hadn't been injected with steroids a while back. From where she lay, Erin can only watch the two men talk.

Nathan leaned on his rifle. "Really now, Marus, do you absolutely think that you can redeem yourself from whatever you have done in the past?"

The newcomer, Marus, stayed in the shadows of the farther end of the corridor. "And do you think that what you intend to do can justify sending all those men to their deaths? 'The ends justify the means' . . . is that it?"

Nathan chuckled. "You always were a servant of the Fates. Then and now, you never tried to escape their yoke." The man's chuckle turned to laughter. "Sei'Gash was right, chaos is the only solution to bring about change. Think of the Ragnarok, for example. True, the people nowadays can no longer remember the true events that aspired that day, but then, stories always change after a few thousand years."

The ruby-eyed man continued, "I wonder what everyone would do to you if they found out that you and I were the ones responsible for that little . . . scuffle."

Marus simply replied, "Our father's blood had created many nightmares in this world, Nathan. I simply hope that you are not one of them."

After Marus said those last words, Erin can only hear silence from where the man once stood.

Light spilled through the hotel windows when a Red Talon's chopper finally arrived with reinforcements. Laser sights dotted various parts of Nathan's body as he stood there at his ease.

The pilot's voice boomed out of the chopper's megaphone, "THIS IS THE RED TALON COUNTER TERRORIST FORCE! DROP YOUR WEAPON AND LIE DOWN ON THE GROUND!"

Nathan just smiled as the rifle transformed in his hands. The rifle, which once a simple rectangular shaped weapon, turned into a monstrosity of glowing electromagnets, power chargers, and recoil absorbers.

"Fools of this Age never differ from the fools of any Age . . ." rings of energy charged up and down the Railgun's shaft. ". . . DIE AS EVERY OTHER FOOL!!!"

Hundreds of bullets pelted Nathan's body as the chopper and its passengers opened fire. The noise was deafening. What made Erin's hackles rise the most was that – in some impossible manner – Nathan dodged every bullet.

There was no sound coming from the Railgun as Nathan pulled the trigger. The only thing exited was thin, white line coming from the nozzle.

At first, the chopper's rotors slowed their rotation, followed by an explosion coming from the cockpit. More explosions came out from the chopper as it spiralled down to the earth.

Nathan was already walking away as the chopper finally let out one big explosion on the ground below. His attention was no longer focused on Erin.

Her injuries were bleeding the life out of her.

She could feel herself slipping out of consciousness.

The last thing she heard was the static from her comm-link.

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The portal closed behind Denise as she walked towards the edge of the roof of a hundred story building. She had to be careful from now on, her she had only fifty gems left stashed away.

This world fascinated her. True, it was still her world at a different time. But still, it was hard to believe that a world like this – a world so full of wonders – can actually exist without magic.

"_There you are. I've been looking for you."_

Janet, her Assassin friend, materialised from one of the building's shadows. Janet's long, black coat flowed with the wind to reveal her wearing a skin-tight, sleeveless black leather outfit. The suit had a V-cut that revealed a considerably generous amount of cleavage.

The Assassin easily conformed to the current fashions, although her clothes would end up rather revealing – even for this world.

For Denise, she felt uncomfortable with her clothing – even if it was considered conservative enough . . . or so Janet said. However, she still didn't understand how a white tank top that didn't actually cover her hips would be conservative. Not to mention that it was paired with long baggy pants that almost revealed her undergarments.

She and Janet had an argument about the pants. To her, it was scandalous! However, her scant clothing was all she can afford with the few gold and silver Zenny coins they brought with them to this world, even if Janet just stole her own set of clothing to save money.

It would seem this world used paper for their money. Rather smart, considering that you can carry more money around since it would be much, much lighter than gold, silver, and copper.

Janet's voice was laced with vexation. "Looking for him would turn out to be a waste of time, Denise. It's impossible to find him in this city." The woman's short black hair stirred in the wind as she spoke. The city lights highlighted her sun-darkened skin and made her sky blue eyes sparkle.

Denise brushed away a stray strand of her blond hair from her face. She then turned back to the view below. "Marus need us Janet, you know that."

Janet huffed in grudging agreement while folding her arms beneath her breasts, "I know, Denise, I know. I just hope he won't do something crazy and idiotic that will make him end up dead – again . . . that's all."

Denise nodded reassuringly, both for herself and Janet. "We _will _find him, Janet. I'm sure of it."

The Assassin and the Priestess knew that something terrible is going to happen. They knew that Marus was key to stopping it. He was the only person capable of exacting drastic changes on the flow of fate.

If they don't find him soon . . .

That simple fact made the both of them feel sorry for every person they saw below.

---------AUTHOR'S AFTERNOTES-------------

OH YEAH . . . FOR THOSE CONCERNED WITH MY GRAMMAR:

SORRY ABOUT THAT, THIS CHAPTER WAS WRITTEN IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT AND I WAS STUCK IN SOME SORT OF "IMPROMPTU" MODE.

SO, IF THIS FIC SEEMS KINDA "OFF" IN SOME WAY, PLEASE, TELL ME NICELY. I DON'T MIND CRITICISM AS LONG AS IT HAS A _REASON_.

HELL, I'D EVEN TAKE YOUR FLAMES SERIOUSLY AS LONG AS THE FLAMER WAS SERIOUS ABOUT IT AS WELL Hint! Hint to someone I know!

NEXT CHAPTER WOULD BE A LITTLE DELAYED DUE TO WRITER'S BLOCK AND I ALSO HAVE CLASSES AND MY FIRST FIC TO FINISH.

IF YOU WANNA SEE A BIT MORE BACKGROUND ABOUT THIS FIC, PLEASE READ "Transgressions of Fate" BY YOURS TRULY.

HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

By the way . . . this is version two of chapter one. I just fixed a few typos and grammar errors, and added a few things for the plot, hehe.


	2. Chapter 02: Meetings

Before you continue . . .

I just want to tell you that chapter 1 has been rewritten. If you already read it before reading this chapter, chances are, you might have read version one.

Also, you might wanna read "Transgressions of Fate". It's a little . . . "less AU" that this one, so I guess that might appeal to some people you know . . .

Well, that's basically all I have to say for the moment.

Hope you enjoy the fic.

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RAGNAROK ONLINE FANFIC

SOLDIER'S TASK 

By: RAGNAR (that really is my name)

Chapter 02: Meetings of Low Repute 

Denise and Janet walked down the alleyway pursuing a lead about the Neyus Underground. The darkness of night almost engulfed the whole area if not for the occasional light or lamp that flickered from some upstairs apartment.

Janet, after "asking" their informant, only got the reply that the Underground might have the information they need. Denise reasoned that since Marus was already infamous at some points, it would come to no surprise that someone from the Underground heard about him.

"Do you think that he was telling the truth?" Denise asked.

Janet grinned while looking at her sideways. "Oh please! The guy was squirming under my boot. Besides, I gave him enough . . . incentive . . . to tell me his grandmother's cup size."

Denise winced at the other woman's frankness. She then tried to cover her waist with her denim jacket, which was rather useless because the jacket was only a few inches longer than her tank top.

Janet patted her head the same way someone would pat a six-year-old. "Come on, Denise, it wouldn't hurt to flaunt your assets once in a while."

Denise irritably waved off Janet's hand. "My 'assets' are none of your business, Janet, or do I have to remind you of that certain incident regarding a certain Knight?"

Janet stared up dreamily on the night sky and moaned – moaned! The woman had no sense of decency at all! – "Oh yes . . . him." The Assassin then chuckled at her, "You should try it one day, Denise. I don't think it would hurt to have new experiences, you know. Besides, I don't think Marus would mind . . . too much."

Suddenly, before Denise even realized it, Janet was hugging her in a provocative manner while rubbing her thigh in a way that made her blush all the way to her scalp.

Janet then said with smoky eyes and heated voice, "Or do you have different preferences?" The Assassin's hand reached a spot that Denise was sure wasn't supposed to be touched.

Denise shoved the Assassin away with a considerable amount of force.

"PLEASE JANET! I am not another one of those women who would give up her maidenhood just like that! And I am certainly not like . . . like that!" shock and mild outrage ran through her head as she scolded the Assassin.

Her cheeks still felt like wildfire though.

At first, Denise thought that Janet was going to apologize, or at least sulk, but then . . . she laughed! "You should have seen the look on your face, Denise! It was hilarious!"

This time, Denise was blushing from indignation. "What do you mean 'hilarious'?!"

"You were blushing like a tomato!" the Assassin said through gritted teeth in an attempt to not laugh out too loud.

Sometimes, Janet satisfied her sense of humor at Denise's expense. That fact sometimes, if not always, brings the two of them into some kind of debate – although, a rather senseless one . . .

"I was not!"

"Yes you were!"

Suddenly, a shout interrupted their childish argument. "What you do here!? What all that ruckus?!" the voice sounded drunk.

The first voice was followed by another voice with an accent. "Hey everybody! We got ourselves some stray ladies! Must be our lucky day!"

Five men appeared on each side of the alley, blocking any way out. Denise saw Janet place herself in a battle stance. Both of Janet's hands seemed unconsciously excited to snap out her katars hidden under her coat sleeves.

Denise placed a hand on the Assassin's shoulder. The last thing they need is to have a murder placed on their hands. "These men aren't demon's or the Undead, Janet. They're just the city's rejects . . . we can't kill them."

Before Janet can answer her, the man with the second voice stepped out of the shadows and spoke. "Well, what do we have here? 'Ye ladies lost?"

The man grinned to show that his upper teeth were all gold-plated. He then brandished a switchblade in front of him as if to scare them. "Too bad for 'ye, but me and me buddies really need some entertainment and all, if 'ye catch me drift."

Some of the men chuckled while the rest laughed.

Denise can sense the strained tolerance in Janet's voice even if it sounded cool and calculating. "Let us through or you'll regret it, you scum."

"Janet . . ." Denise inched a little closer to the Assassin and whispered, ". . . do you think it's wise to provoke them like that? We _are_ outnumbered five to one, if you haven't noticed."

Janet's only reply was, "They'll live."

The one with the switchblade grinned even wider. "Yev got spunk. I like spunk." He shouted to his friends, "Hey boys! 'Ye all can have the blonde. I gets to have the other chick."

With that, the other men came forward. Their grins and lustful eyes were enough to make Denise cringe and retch at the same time.

Apparently, Janet felt the same way she did. The Assassin popped her knuckles before whispering to her, "Can I at least kill the guy who called me a 'chick'?"

Still, Denise said firmly, "No."

Suddenly, Denise felt two grimy pairs of hands on each of her arms. The smell of the men behind her made Denise gack. Another pair of hands started feel up and down her body while another pair fumbled on her belt.

In her carelessness, Denise had not noticed that there are more men closer to them.

Denise tried to struggle away, but only managed to shout out in a panic, "JANET! HELP!"

The Assassin was quick to respond. Behind her, Denise felt a snap, then a scream, followed by curses from the other men who just let her go.

As she started to turn around, Denise heard more sharp snaps and clipped screams. When she finally completed her turn, she saw Janet wiping her hands on her black coat. The four men who grabbed her were lying on the ground, groaning in pain – why they were in pain, Denise didn't know.

"BITCH!" the man with the switchblade shouted out in anger when he saw what Janet did to his friends, "GET 'EM BOYS!!!"

With that, the ten men ran towards them with knives and broken bottles.

Janet placed Denise behind her. The Assassin placed herself in a battle stance. "Denise, cover me."

Denise nodded as she cast the necessary blessings on her friend.

The first man to reach Janet lunged with his broken bottle only to find himself with a broken arm. The next one slashed with his knife and hit only empty air.

Janet grabbed the second attacker's arm and used it to stab another man in the shoulder. As soon as the other man cried out in pain, the Assassin punched the one with the knife on the nose. When the man tried to stop his nose from bleeding, Janet punched him hard on the stomach. After that, she sent a well-placed roundhouse kick to the head of the man with the stabbed shoulder.

When Janet's first two assailants fell to the ground, the Assassin slammed the back of her forearm on the face of the next man. Janet's withdrawn and concealed katars instantly knocked the man unconscious.

Then, Janet blocked a blow coming from a man wielding a metal pipe with her right arm. Denise saw a brief look of shock on the Assassin's face before it was replaced with fury.

Janet quickly snapped out the blade of her left katar and stabbed the man close the armpit.

Denise, in her shock at the other woman's display of anger, can only stand there and listen at the words that came out of Janet's mouth.

"You just ruined my favorite pair of blades, you worthless . . ." Janet sunk the katar's blade deeper into the man while her other hand choked him to keep him from screaming.

As Janet added more pressure to her slow stab, the blade popped out of the man's shoulder. The steel was almost unrecognizable from all the blood and gore that coated it.

" . . . piece of . . . " The Assassin then slowly twisted the blade in between the man's ribs and shouted, ". . . TRASH!"

When Denise finally regained her senses and gotten over her shock, she cried out to Janet, "Janet, stop it this instant! We're here to find Marus, not kill anyone who crosses you the wrong way!"

Too late, the man fell to the ground writhing in agony.

Janet flicked the blood off her katar before withdrawing it. She then looked at Denise apologetically.

Denise rushed to the injured man and placed her hands on his wound. She performed a slowed Heal spell on him. The spell will aid in closing his injury, but it will not heal too quickly so as to keep him from recovering too fast and be hurt by Janet all over again.

As she stood up, she saw a figure behind the Assassin.

"Behind you!" she cried out.

Before Janet can turn around to counter the blow, the man with the switchblade was already mere inches away from stabbing Janet through the heart.

Casting her arms forward, Denise tried to protect her friend with the only spell that came to her mind. A white beam of light streaked down from the sky and struck the man square at the chest.

There was a blinding flash before the man flew all the way to the opposite wall. Smoke rose up from a smoldering black crater on his chest.

Denise knew that the Holy Light spell wasn't fatal. But the display was enough to send the other men cowering for cover.

As Denise and Janet tried to regain their calm, they heard clapping from an approaching silhouetted figure.

When the man came closer to them, Denise saw that he was flanked by two burly men in black suits. The two men stood at their ease close behind him as he went a little closer to the two women.

Long wavy hair cascaded down all the way to the middle of the man's shoulder blades. He was decorated in various jewels and gold trinkets. His black striped fur-lined orange coat seemed to be made from some sort of cat.

Pretty extravagant taste for someone who frequented the city back-alleys.

His cane rapped on the concrete floor before he spoke. "I hear you gals are looking for the Underground?"

Denise's curiosity perked when he mentioned the Underground. "You know of the Underground?" she asked.

Before the man can answer, Janet cut in, the Assassin's suspicious nature coming to play. "What's it to you?"

The man snapped his fingers and more men appeared.

Denise placed a firm grip on her friend's shoulder when she saw that the newcomers were all armed with guns. She didn't know how dangerous a gun was, but she did know that the people in this world invested much of their time in developing the weapon. The best action for the moment was to stand and wait.

The man saw Denise's restraining gesture on Janet and smiled. "Wise move . . . alright, you can come with us."

"Where?" Denise asked.

He spoke to them as if they asked if he can fly, "Where do you think? The Underground."

This time, Janet ignored all of Denise's warnings. "Hey!" the Assassin's suspicion became obvious as she called out to the bejeweled man, "I don't think you told us your name."

The katar snapped out again. The Assassin stepped between Denise and the men. "And how come you're not surprised at my friend's little light show?"

The man's bodyguards aimed their guns at the two women.

The man let out a loud laugh before speaking to them. "You know, it's something of a rare treat for me to see people that are a bit as smart as you."

He raised his hand signaling his men to stand down. "My name is Alfred. Don't be suspicious of me if you think I haven't noticed your little trick, I'm just not the type to person that gets carried off by things that he doesn't know or understand."

Alfred smiled at them. "Besides, I've already seen stranger things."

Janet raised an eyebrow. "Really?" there was an underlying tone of sarcasm in the Assassin's voice.

As soon as Alfred snapped his fingers, one of his men, someone with a body almost as large as an ox's, pulled a dumpster away from the wall, revealing a passageway down to a dark chamber.

Alfread flourished a bow towards the two women, "Ladies, without any pun intended, welcome to the Underground."

-------AUTHOR'S AFTERNOTE---------------------

AGAIN, ANY REVIEW IS WELCOME. EVEN FLAMES.

JUST PLEASE, I'M ASKING NICELY THAT YOUR REVIEW / FLAME WOULD BE SOMETHING WITH A LITTLE SUBSTANCE, SO TO SPEAK.

"_It's pretty much hard to write a story on an empty stomach and a sleepy brain" . . . spoken by someone I know._


	3. Chapter 03: Shadows of the Past

NOT TO READERS:

This is not yuri!

Janet is just crassly . . . frank, that's all.

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RAGNAROK ONLINE FANFIC

SOLDIER'S TASK 

By: RAGNAR (that really is my name)

Chapter 03: Shadows of the Past 

The Choirs of Chaos . . .

For hundreds of years, he searched relentlessly for a way to hear them again. To him, the voice of but a few angels was worth the lives of millions.

In all that time, Marus was always in his way. Shadow Eyes never understood. Nobody does. All Nathan wanted was to hear the Choirs one last time, to feel the bliss that coursed through him during that fateful day once more . . . is that so much to ask?

The lights in the city of Prontera, now known as Neyus, sparkled like stars beneath the valley. He stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking the city.

Nathan remembered a time when the valley that protected Neyus wasn't there. When the sea air still went through its walls.

The sea was no longer there however, but then, neither was the city of Izlude. It was a wonder that Prontera – or rather, Neyus – still stood after all these centures. Maybe that little legend about it standing against the grinding of time was true. It did survive the Ragnarök after all.

That girl back in the building was an interesting case. Nathan never knew Marus to be the type to care for women unless they were placed in his charge. Maybe the Fates started meddling with events again . . . but that would be impossible because Sei'Gash had already been vanquished back to the Void. There was no need for Marus in this world anymore . . . or is there?

The world is full of mysteries. In spite of himself, Nathan smiled at the thought.

He strapped the railgun to his back and walked away from the cliff's edge towards the shadows within the forest.

The railgun was an interesting weapon. It had the ability to turn one simple medium-caliber bullet into a cannonball. In some distant time, when he was still younger, he might have cursed the existence of such a device. Now, he simply saw it as a tool that he can use.

Another thing in this world was that the world was full of people hungry for something to believe in. That fact made it easier for him to create somewhat of a "cult".

So . . . the good thing about being the leader of a radical group of fanatical zealots ready to die for a cause that they themselves don't even know: is that you can order them to do absolutely anything.

Fools, the whole lot of them!

The shadows engulfed him as he went deeper into their cold embrace.

------------------------------

The shadows in the alley next to the hospital stirred like leaves in the wind. From a nearby wall, the shadow spiraled into itself and reached out into the world. Then, it turned into a silhouette of a man.

Before long, Marus Shadow Eyes materialized out of the darkness. His Assassin's uniform, cut, tailored and modified to resemble the fashions of the time, flapped in the sudden wind that blew through the alley.

His long, black, sleeveless coat flew along with the wind. Bandage-like straps that wound around his upper arm and his waist gave the illusion that he was a man of slight build. The handles of his throwing knives peeked out of the gaps in his straps – a hundred throwing knives in all.

Marus' two custom-made handguns were holstered comfortably at his lower back.

Looking up the hospital's wall, he found the window he was looking for.

With little effort, Marus jumped from one side of the alley to another in rapid succession, bring him higher up from the ground and closer towards the sixth floor of the seven-story hospital.

When he finally reached the window to room 621, he quickly pulled out two of his knives and jammed one in between two bricks of the windowsill and the other on the wall above his head. He used the first knife as a foothold and the second as a grab-on to give him balance.

Looking into the darkness of the room, Marus saw his reflection on the smooth glass. His face never changed, it would seem. Those scars of his will never go away.

On the left side of his face, scars crisscrossed against each other in a way that made them look like a spider's net. His left eye was completely white – and blind.

Marus shook off the memories that latched themselves on his scars. There was no time for such thoughts.

At will, both his eyes turned into pitch-black orbs when he switched his vision to scan the room for anyone alive.

Marus spotted the injured and unconscious Erin Gomez lying on the hospital bed. Her red aura pulsating, signaling him that she was still weak. Good, she was alive, at least.

He used another of his throwing knives to slice several small holes on one side of the window. Steadily and quickly, using the first slices for starting points, he started shaving off part of the window until there was a large enough gap for him to put his arm through.

He unlatched the window from the inside and sneaked in.

Erin was lying on the bed. An oxygen mask was strapped over her nose and mouth. Bandages and unhealed stitches covered practically half of her body from all the injuries she sustained during that mission.

The only thing keeping her alive was the beeping devises that artificially kept her heart beating and her lungs breathing.

Technically, she could be referred to as a vegetable.

Marus placed his fingers on her left temple and closed his eyes.

How long was it since he last did something like this again?

What he did was something hard to describe. Priests, Acolytes, Crusaders, Monks . . . they had their own Healing. Marus didn't know what to call his version of that skill. In a way, his method was better, in another, it wasn't.

What happened was more easily described as shadowy tendrils reaching out into the deepest corners of the girl's soul. Those tendrils of power were the effect of his improvised Heal spell. It was a good thing that Erin was unconscious, otherwise, she would be screaming in pain by now.

Judging by her heartbeat, breathing, and aura, she was going to be all right. Now, Marus had but a few minutes to get out of the building before an orderly comes rushing in to inspect the sudden change in the patient's condition.

---------------------------------

_John and his wife were having dinner that fateful evening. It was Carol's twenty-first birthday and he was finally able to pull enough strings to give her a surprise dinner she'll never forget._

_He figured that he could at least have some quality time with Ynes when he was working. Besides, the delegates had enough bodyguards as it is. Most of them are even better than he could ever dream to be. Beside's he was on a working holiday. In short, a vacation that had him in the same place the president and the foreign delegates decided to have their "secret" meeting. _

_Carol's golden hair glittered from the chandelier's light. Her ocean-blue eyes seemed to take in every detail she could find. Her red lips parted as she tried to find words to describe her joy. _

_He and Carol weren't exactly the richest couple in Neyus. John didn't blame her for being this enthusiastic. It's not an everyday matter that the two of them can spend some quality time, much less in a place this fancy. He was simply lucky to have been granted free food, in account of tracking down the kidnappers of the restaurant owner's daughter._

_So, in direct opposition to his conscience and exploiting the owner's offer . . . the two of them ordered the most expensive food in the menu. Carol's eyes practically sparkled at all the food that was placed on the table. The other bodyguards ogled at the heaps and heaps of wine, meat, and by everything that's holy . . . poultry! Five different kinds of birds were practically dropped on their table from the sheer weight on the waiter's serving tray. Even John's jaw went slack from all the poultry . . . why on earth would she order all this poultry!?_

_John's eyes threatened to fall off their sockets when he spoke with incredulity. "First of all, is it me or do you have a bird fetish? Second, how the hell do you keep slim with all that food in you system?" _

_His wife's mouth, practically stuffed full of food and looking like a bloated fish, worked for a way to talk to him and at the same time, chew . . . if that was possible. Finally, after a few seconds of mumbling and a moment that almost required the Heimlich maneuver, Carol was finally able to talk with a "reasonably" empty mouth. "Do you actually think that I'm gonna pass out all this food?! Besides, I just love bird meat."_

_John sighed while slicing off a piece of pork on his plate. "All right . . . but if you start having cramps on your chest, don't say I didn't warn you."_

------------------------------

Here lies Carol K. Marshal.

Born March 15, 2023.

Died March 15, 2044.

Devoted daughter.

Beloved wife.

Rest in Peace.

Those were the words carved on her gravestone. Those were the words that convinced him that this world could never change into the way he dreamed it to be. There can never be piece. As long as there are people like the ones that bombed the restaurant not so long ago.

John carefully placed the flowers on Carol's grave. The water from the light rain dripped down his raincoat and fell to the grave's raised dirt. He didn't know if his tears joined those raindrops on the ground.

Until now, he couldn't understand how he could have survived that night. How he could have walked away from all that fire, rubble, and carnage with only a few cuts and bruises.

John's eyes went to the statue of angels standing watch over Carol's body. Half of him wanted to spit on and break the marble into powder because the angels she so trusted didn't save her that day.

But then, the other half of himself won't bring him to destroy the sculpture. Carol loved angels so much that he himself carved the statue himself. He searched for months just so he can find the perfect piece of marble to be placed onto her grave.

He couldn't understand why. He can never understand.

"My condolences to you, Marshal, she didn't deserve to die the way she did." A voice seemed to come from all directions at once. But for some reason, John knew that it came from behind him. 

He already knew who it was.

"How was the girl, Marus?" John asked.

The shadows around him spiraled into one single spot to welcome the arrival of Marus Shadow-Eyes. How the man can use shadows as his means of transportation sometimes made John a little uneasy. But a single look into Marus' one good eye can tell him that he was a good man. Although, he can also be the kind of man to twist your neck for some reason not known to anyone.

The deceptively thin man replied, "She'll live . . . although I don't understand why you've taken an interest on her."

John pulled the raincoat's hood lower to avoid a sudden gust of wind on his face. "I have my reasons and you have yours Marus. But we did start this Agency for the same purpose . . ." he paused for moment, then added, ". . . we do have the same purpose, don't we Marus?"

How Marus seemed to stay dry in this weather baffled him. Marus waited for a short moment before answering "You never trust anyone, do you, John?"

"I don't trust anything I don't understand."

"Then you can never trust me." Marus replied with a slight twitch of his lip.

John offered a quick prayer for Carol and stood up. He didn't know why he prayed though; Carol was the one who believed in such things, not him. "Sergeant Erin Gomez of the RTCTF. She graduated just three months ago with high marks and notable potential."

The rain stopped, it would seem. The moonlight just broke through the clouds and already John was starting to heat up under his coat despite the cooled weather. "I've been keeping an eye on our little soldier and I think she just might have the stuff to fit into our little group."

Marus huffed and crossed his arms while looking at Carol's grave. "I spotted Nathan when I tracked down the girl."

John raised an eyebrow. "Your brother?"

"Half-brother. He is actually the cult leader the news was talking about."

John's face creased all over with thought. "If you're talking about the Will of the Shadows cult, then I should be very disappointed in him. The group is just made up of runaways and rejects who babble gibberish every time they hack into another local TV station."

He pulled out a digital camera's memory card out of his pocket and handed it over to Marus. "Take this to Jenny. She knows what to do with it."

Marus slipped the card in between those straps of his and asked, "And what about you?"

"I have some personal work to do."

The rain started all over again and John had to pull up his hood once more.

His feet splashed on the hundreds of water puddles that formed on the cemetery's pathway as he walked alone towards the gates and out into the city.

Behind him, there was but the garden of marble headstones and a single bouquet of roses that marked his wife's grave.


	4. chapter 04: Promises

Author's Note:

Hmmm . . . I wonder what the Wachowski brothers would do if they read this . . . or wait! Better yet, Warren Murphy and Richard Sapir, the authors of _The Destroyer _series!

Oh well, prepare for one long chapter with nothing but guns mixed with miles and miles of bravado – and yes, some of the scene's your about to witness might actually resemble clichés – and yes, this _is_ an RO fic.

Also, I apologize in advance for any typo and grammar errors that might – or will – occur in this fic. This is just my second work after all.

---------------------------

RAGNAROK ONLINE FANFIC

SOLDIER'S TASK 

By: RAGNAR (that really is my name)

Chapter 04: Promises 

It's been ten months since Carol died. Somehow, John never got himself to grieve her death. The building in front of him towered all the way to the sky. Looking up, John noticed the enormous structure was swaying from the powerful winds that slammed on its walls from above.

The man he was looking for was on the top floor of this one hundred fifty six-story building. The man he was looking for was going to pay for the death of innocent people.

No amount of money – no _army _– will stand in his way.

John will exact his price on the man who ordered the restaurant's bombing. He will kill the man who caused Carol's death.

His mind ranted at him that he should call the Agency to back him up. But there was that part in the deepest corner that told him that he should do this alone. This was a personal matter.

The glass doors slid open as if to welcome him. The entire building was silent. There wasn't a single person in sight other than a lone security guard reading his porno magazine, rocking his chair back and forth, and grinning.

John's short hair was matted down to his brow with rain. His steel-toed boots made heavy sounds on the floor as he approached the reception desk. The guns he hid under his navy blue raincoat felt light compared to the thoughts that raced through his head.

Hearing the sound of John's boots hitting the marble floor, the security guard turned a serious face towards him. When he reached the desk, the guard leaned forward. "What's your business, sir?"

John kept his hands off his pockets. "I'm here to see Mr. Gonzales."

The security guard/receptionist replied, "He's not here. Do you have an appointment?"

John just went on ahead with practically no protest from the guard. "I'll just wait for him at his office."

Behind him, he heard the guard whisper into his radio "He's here. He's here."

With very little thought, John drew his .7 caliber Desert Eagle handgun and pointed it towards the man's face. With even less thought, he pulled the trigger without looking at the shock and terror that shone in the guard's eyes.

Brains plastered themselves to the wall with a loud splat. The dead body fell over backwards along with the now blood-soaked chair. Half of the man's head was now just empty space with smoke coming from what's left of his skull. The echo from the bang that came out of his gun faded away and was followed by the echo from the explosion that came from the bullet when it hit the guard's head.

John pushed the button to summon the elevator. He waited for a few seconds before hearing that familiar ding that signaled that the elevator had arrived. When the doors slid open, he was greeted by six men armed with Fn100 SMG's aimed straight at him.

As though by routine, John unconsciously pulled the pin off one of his napalm grenades and stealthily threw it into the box while sidestepping to the near wall to avoid the barrage of bullets.

After a moment of silence, there was an explosion followed by screams of men that burned to death. John made a mental note to remind him to thank Carl for bringing up the idea of giving the napalm an acid effect. It seemed that the special batch was actually able to eat through kevlar before reaching any skin. That way, the napalm's fiery effects weren't lessened.

When he walked towards the next row of elevators, all of them opened at the same time. A flood of armed men came out and pointed their guns at him.

This is becoming ridiculous.

John reached into a deeper part of his coat and pulled out his six-round grenade gun. Even while bullets drew closer and closer to him while he calmly circled the large group of men, he fired all six grenades in well-calculated locations.

The explosions shook the floor and the screams from the dying men filled the air. His rounds were loaded with napalm as well as gunpowder; fire blazed at the six spots that he fired upon. Dead men stared out into space through burnt faces, their skin roasted to a bright yet sickly red. Ignoring the gruesome sight around him, John dropped the grenade gun and walked towards the nearest working elevator.

The elevator doors slid closed, finally blocking the view of the carnage that he caused.

-------------------------

Marus needed only one glance at the burned bodies around him to know that John finally brought himself to use Carl's incendiaries. He let go of his Cloaking ability and walked towards the reception desk.

Judging from the way the security guard died, Marus concluded that John also used explosive bullets as well. Interesting, John never struck him as the type to use undue force.

Marus jumped to the guard's side of the desk, tapped a few commands on the keyboard, and looked at the words that came out on screen.

Marus clicked his tongue loudly when he read the result that told him that there wasn't a Nathan Wong in their database. After a few seconds of thought, he typed in another command.

"Damn!" Marus practically cracked the screen open with his fist. Apparently, his hunch was wrong about the place. The building was supposed to be a secret bank for most of the city's more . . . renowned . . . terror cells. He knew that Nathan was able to collect an incredible amount of money, Marus was just hoping that his brother would be careless enough to deposit even a little bit of that here.

Suddenly, the floor at the center of the room slid open. There was a heavy mechanical sound like that of an elevator. A few seconds later, Marus was shocked to find that he was about to face an eight-foot-high mobile weapons platform – in short, a spider mech with a cannon on top and two gattling guns on the side.

Great . . . the last thing he needed right now was an encounter. Most especially, with this mechanical monster.

The guns started to whirl. With no hesitation, Marus Cloaked himself and ran towards the walker. At first, the mech was noticeably confused at his disappearing act, until the mech's AI commanded it to switch to thermal vision.

Marus was forced to run a semi-circle around the mech so as to avoid the guns.

The path behind him was strewn with large craters marking the spots where the high-caliber bullets made contact.

Before the spider mech could even start to turn around, Marus drew his two handguns and flipped a switch on the sides of both weapons. In the blink of an eye, the two one-foot long handguns turned into railguns.

It took about a fraction of a second for him to charge up the magnets and another half-second for him to jump back. Marus pulled the triggers and the bullets zipped right through almost every part of the mech.

The spider recoiled from every hit of a slug. Marus' every shot made sure that the thing wouldn't be able to fire that cannon on its back. The dents on the robot's alloy were disproportionate to the size of the bullets that he sent its way.

As soon as Marus' feet found the ground after his jump, he aimed for the thing's fuel cell located right inside its "belly". Time seemed to slow down for him when he carefully calculated the approximate location of the mech's power source. The fuel cell was small – almost the size of a fist.

Somehow, a part of Marus believed that he could do it. Another part of him ranted that he was insane.

The first part, he listened to. Marus smothered the other part into the deepest recesses of his mind.

He counted the rounds that he fired just moments ago. He had only five shots left.

The mech was slowly recovering from his barrage. Its gattling guns started to whirl again. The thing's legs were covering its belly, disrupting his aim.

Screw it all!

Marus fired all five rounds. The bullets went out of his handguns in white streams.

The first bullet hit a leg on the joint. A shower of metal, wires, and fluid burst out of the thing's severed limb.

The second bullet slammed on the mech's right gattling gun. The impact shook loose a gear inside the gun's firing mechanism. Without the proper rhythm, the gun exploded when it fired ahead of schedule.

The third bullet made a big dent on the mech's lower belly.

The fourth bullet took out another leg, making another violent display of machine fluids.

The final bullet miraculously went between the joints of the legs, slammed straight through the thing's belly, and exited out the other side.

Marus expected a big explosion that usually occurs in the movies when some mechanical monster was defeated. He even readied his coat to shield himself from a half-expected glare of a raging inferno.

Instead, the spider mech just shut down. There was a loud crash of metal when the mech simply fell to the ground with absolutely nothing to power it.

Marus let the two smoking handguns transform back into their original states and replaced them in their holsters.

There was nothing else for him to do here. It was time to leave John in his own business.

The shadows in the room spiraled to the spot where he stood and swallowed him.

When he left, there was only the unpowered shell of a wrecked spider mech, the burnt remains of mercenary bodyguards and terrorists, and an icy chill that seemed to persist despite the napalm's flames.

------------------------

It was nice of Gonzales to leave John a welcome party. There were approximately fifty men that popped out of the pillars when he walked out of the elevator on the top floor.

He didn't have the time to draw his weapons when the entire corridor leading to Gonzales' office was filled with the spray of marble and concrete dust. Bullets zipped right past him and whittling down the pillar that he used for cover.

John pulled out two grenades and blindly threw them behind him. He waited five seconds before there were panicked shouts of frightened men.

Idiots, he didn't pull the pins on those things. John came out into the open with his two Desert Eagles blazing. He started with the men that didn't drop on the gound. Each man toppled over violently when the slugs made contact with their heads and exploded. The mercenaries that weren't hit were obviously terrified at the kind of ammunition he was using.

It was a sensible reaction. No one wants to have their heads blown up from the inside by a half inch thick bullet loaded with gunpowder.

When he ran out of bullets and before the other men could even have the chance to pull their guns at him, John threw another grenade at them. This time, the pin was pulled.

The men laughed, thinking that he was bluffing. John ducked into another pillar when the five seconds were up. More dirt and dust was shaken loose from the ruined walls when three consecutive explosions rocked the floor.

When he emerged from the pillar, no one was left alive.

----------------------

Ervin Gonzales can scarcely believe he was reduced to simpering in a corner of his office. He can hardly find any comfort in his 12-gauge shotgun that he hugged a little too tightly. Ervin knew that the guards that he posted outside were dead.

Damn vigilante! Why won't he leave him alone?!

The silence from the outside turned out to be even more terrifying. But when he heard that something was being done to his barricaded door, Ervin's heart beat so fast that he thought he might have a heart attack.

With every heartbeat, he couldn't help but feel that something terrible was going to happen to him tonight.

Then, the door exploded.

Ervin was an expert with bombs before coming into the business of being a banker. His door was rigged with C4, and from the way those flames wouldn't stop burning on the floor, he assumed that that there was even napalm involved.

The smoke from the flames was so black that he couldn't see anything beyond the door. The fire's oppressive heat created beads of sweat on his forehead that joined the sweat that was caused by his fear.

A man's silhouette was outlined by the inferno. The person that emerged was wearing a long blue raincoat and was holding the biggest handgun he ever saw. From the way he walked through the fire, Ervin felt like he was looking at a demon coming out from hell.

A demon that was surely going to kill him.

The man strode slowly towards him. Ervin can't find the strength to lift his shotgun because of sheer terror. The man's eyes – although remarkably plain-looking along with the rest of him – reflected one single emotion directed at Ervin.

Hate.

Ervin tried his best to back away from the stranger. The man pointed his weapon straight at him. He might have wept if panic hadn't made him forget how to shed tears.

"Ervin Gonzales?" the man asked. The way he spoke sent even more waves of terror up Ervin's spine.

Despite all his efforts, Ervin nodded.

_How did the man do that?! _

Ervin panicked even more when he realized that the stranger could make him do things that he didn't want to do. Like make him reveal his identity.

Ervin gathered all that was left of his courage and spoke, "Who the hell are you?!"

He screamed when the man fired his gun. He screamed even louder when his left shoulder exploded into a shower of blood, bone, and shredded skin.

"Me?" the man said, "I'm the little boy that was crushed to death when the hotel that he an his parents were staying in collapsed when you blew up its foundation five years ago."

Another shot practically severed his right arm.

"I'm that fifteen-year-old girl that your men raped, beaten, and butchered so as to make a 'statement' for your useless cause two years ago."

The stranger shot again, this time, on Ervin's right thigh. The bullet exploded when it hit the bone. Even more blood splattered across the floor and the pain was incredible.

"I'm the woman that was celebrating her twenty-first birthday with her husband before you doused the restaurant with napalm and sent a car bomb to finish the job."

The man seemed to be a touch more empathic on that last statement.

"Do you know that she died slowly, Gonzles?" the man grabbed Ervin by the collar and dragged him to the nearest window. The man then slammed his gun handle on the glass. The cold wind from this altitude mercilessly burst through the shattered window.

"What do you think the husband must have felt when his wife was burning away before his eyes?"

The shock of losing too much blood was getting to him. Somehow though, the man did something to his mind that warded off the numbness. The pain from his wounds was starting to grow excruciating.

Ervin was dangling in the air. The stranger must be strong; he was only using one hand to hold him by the neck. Or maybe it was because he was missing three limbs that he was so light at the moment.

The man gripped his throat tighter when he spoke. Ervin couldn't breath anymore. "I am the man who made a promise to all the people that were killed by people like you."

"I promised that I will wipe each and every one of you from the face of this earth."

Ervin slipped into unconsciousness.

The darkness receded and Ervin was greeted by the wind on his face. He was glad that it was all just a dream. He was glad that – wind in his bedroom? – wait!

Then, his focus returned.

He realized what that strange black object that was growing bigger and bigger each moment.

It was roof of his stretch limousine that he parked just this morning on the driveway.


	5. Chapter 05: Brothers in Shadow

Well, this fic seems to be going on a bit better than I expected.

Anyway, to help the less "gun-literate" readers, I'm going to put a glossary in this little author's rant. Before that though, thanks for the reviews you guys posted (yes, that includes the flames). Kinda kept me going for this fic.

And by the way, credit for this chapter goes to whoever made the movie, "Equilibrium". It's a good movie with decent action and some deep – not philosophical, from what I heard – thinking. Not to mention that the last fight scene was _incredible_! I mean, face to face (emphasis on **_face to face_**) with guns blazing but only one bullet gets to hit one of them in the end!

So anyway, here's the glossary Byakko asked for.

Fn100 SMG – you can see this gun in Half-Life:Counter-Strike (known as a 3:3 to most players). It also has some similarity to the gun Makoto used against the tank in Ghost in the Shell: the movie (forgot which one, but it's the movie where they went against some guy called the "puppet master")

Railgun – a fictional (I think) weapon that uses magnets to increase a bullet's velocity (theoretically). I don't know if I got the concept right, but I've heard it enough times to gather the guts to use the idea.

12-gauge shotgun – the shotguns I heard of uses three kinds of shells – 12-gauge, 8-gauge, and slugs. 12-gauge are the weakest but has more spread than the other gauges. Slugs on the other hand . . . just think of them as HUGE bullets.

Napalm – some kind of jelly like substance that burns for a very long time. It sticks to skin and is pretty hard to snuff out.

"Dropstick" – I heard this term from some movie back then. It the kind of detonator that when dropped, detonates the bomb (examples in "Speed" and "Terminator 2")

From this point on, I will give a glossary at the beginning of every chapter with a new weapon. OK, so I'm a war freak . . . sue me.

RAGNAROK ONLINE FANFIC

**SOLDIER'S TASK**

By: RAGNAR (that really is my name)

Chapter 05: Brothers by the Shadow 

Evin Gonzales' death was all over the news the day after John's attack on the building. So were the brutal images of burned and bullet-riddled corpses littering the building floor.

But those pictures and Gonzales were already stale concepts to the general public's mind. So, most of the focus was basically the mysterious wreckage of a spider mech at the very center of the ground floor. Only only a few bullets seemingly took down the assault robot when the machine was purposely built for heavy fighting on the battlefield. The makers of the GX Model Arach Series heatedly denied their involvement with any of Gonzales' operations and claimed that the one found in the alleged "terrorist's treasurer" was a "mere copy" and that their machines can never be disabled by only thirty bullets.

They did not mention, however, that the bullets were tipped with synthetic diamonds and that the slugs were most likely projected from two medium-caliber railguns . . . as claimed by the city's CSI team.

John turned the TV off with the remote and walked towards his apartment's mini-bar where he fixed himself a glass of vodka mixed with some _lambanog_. It wasn't exactly tasty, but he needed to forget a few things.

Marus appeared from the shadows sometime in John's eighth glass. "Drowning away the world again, I see." The man said while tossing him a disk.

Partly drunk as he was, John caught it in midair. He already knew what is in the disk– it was the monthly report from the Agency. "I'm psycho-empathic, remember? Everything everyone feels in half a mile goes through my brain. If you were in my position, you would probably drink five gallons of alcohol a day, if I had to bet."

John didn't know if it was his drink but the shadows shook when Marus stepped back to hitch a ride on them. "Tell me, how do you do that? The shadow thing?" he asked.

Marus chuckled . . . an odd sound coming from a man of Marus' temperament. "You wouldn't believe me even if I told you. But for your ease of mind, just think of it as something that is long beyond its time. By the way, aren't you allergic to alcohol?"

Riddles again . . . maybe Marus just got a hold of some top-secret light-folding device probably inspired by the medieval times . . . yeah . . . right.

When the man left, John took off his gun holsters and hung them on the door. His guns went back to the hidden compartment behind the bookshelf – the bookshelf was cliché, but somehow, it actually worked to keep others from finding his weapon stash.

Making his way to the shower with only a groggy head for company, John accidentally bumped a bookshelf. When he did, a shoebox fell, spilling out some wrinkled pieces of paper.

It was the forms he had when he was a member of the government's now dissolved psi-corps. When other kids were having troubles with their third-year high school physics, John and his batchmates were out there on the field trying to dodge bullets, mind-control an enemy soldier, and all other stuff that might have been taken out of the comic books. Too bad, it was fun while it lasted.

Strangely, the government actually grew a set of ethics and disbanded the psi-corps, giving the kids back to the normal ring of society. Actually, after some discreet inquiries, John found out that the psi-corps wasn't exactly "cost-effective" and had to be dissolved "efficiently".

The ex-members of the corps were then met with "accidents" in their daily lives. It was usually seen as suicide, mugging, strangulation by an electric cord, and some other stuff that goes by in the back pages of the newspaper. John believed that he was the only one left that came from that group of kids . . . maybe there may be some left out there, but he never trusted hope.

Deciding that he should fix the mess on the floor later – or burn it . . . whichever way. He still couldn't figure out why he kept those pieces of paper anyway. Maybe it was just batch loyalty . . . maybe.

Staggering a bit, John opened the bathroom door, fell down in front of the toilet seat, and puked.

Marus stood on the edge of the flat roof of Neyus' highest structure, a business building that pierced the clouds. Beneath him, the city can be seen through the canopy of clouds. The midnight sky up here was so dark since there was no moon and only the stars for light. When Marus first went into this spot, he first thought that there would be windows and light from the building, but that was when he found out that it was only solid concrete. The building actually uses artificial environments within its walls. This suited Marus very well because he comes here every so often just to think.

As he sat on the ledge like some gargoyle, his coat flapping behind him from the powerful winds, Marus wondered why he joined John Marshal's Agency. Part of it was because it was had a very efficient system of information gatherers and he needed that to find what Nathan's plans required.

The rest . . . he didn't know. Maybe he was just foolish enough to hope that maybe there was at least some small shard of honesty in the world.

"_So this is where you've been hiding."_ A voice rang all around him, but Marus knew it was from behind. It was strange how people who used the shadows always come from behind. Stranger still, Marus was able to think that at a time like this.

The shadows spiraled and welcomed in Nathan. Red eyes glowing from the little light that was present, Nathan stood next to Marus on the ledge.

"It's easier to think here, Nathan. No people." Marus replied. The man was supposed to be the enemy, but they were both immortal, so fighting would be absolutely useless.

Nathan took out his rifle from his back and aimed it a random location on the ground. "What do you think would the people down there would do when I pull this trigger?"

Before the man could even act, however, Marus already had his own gun aimed for Nathan's head. The only part of his body that moved was his arm. Marus never took his eyes off the city.

"Always the show-off, eh Raidi?" Nathan responded.

"That's not my name anymore, Nathan." The cold up here turned both their breath into frost. Really though, there was practically no air in this height, only their immortality gave them the advantage of not suffocating to death minutes ago.

Nathan replied with heat, "Why do you insist on using the name Sei'Gash gave you! He's dead, Raidi! Dead!"

Marus' lips twitched on one side. "I'm still his son, no matter how evil he was."

"So it's guilt then?" Nathan said coldly.

"No . . . conscience."

Nathan growled and disappeared from his side. Marus simply tilted his head to the side to avoid the bullet from behind. He pivoted on his heel and shot at Nathan. Nathan ducked and used the motion to aim his rifle and fire. Marus in turn jumped to the side while firing another shot with his gun, his other hand reaching for his other piece.

The next two minutes proceeded with him and Nathan firing at each other only to hit thin air. Marus was circling his brother with guns blazing while the other man was dancing to the tune of gunfire while aiming and firing at quick intervals.

The two of them were sensitive beings to the tune of events. "Dancing to the music of fighting", that was what they called the way they fought. Guns, knives, and fists, Nathan and he were capable of extracting music from the clamor of chaos.

That was what Nathan was after . . . The Choirs of Chaos. In short, he wanted to bring back the war of the Ragnarök, or something close in scale. Marus thought Nathan was simply deluded and mad.

The dance ended when their weapons only gave out sharp clicking, telling them that they were both out of ammo.

Quickly, Marus dropped his normal guns and took out his two railguns while running towards Nathan. In the time Marus removed his weapons from their holsters, Nathan already reloaded his rifle and switched it into rail-mode.

Marus sidestepped and the first bullet zipped right past his face. He surged forward, firing one round from each handgun. Nathan simply ducked like the last time and fired another round. Marus sidestepped again to avoid the bullet.

When he was at arm's reach of Nathan, Marus thrust his right gun forward and fired, only to have Nathan hit his arm with the rifle's butt and swing with the barrel. Marus used his left gun to block the barrel and he then tilted his head to the right when he saw Nathan pull the rifle's trigger. Marus then bent his right elbow and fired his gun towards Nathan's head but the man used the rifle's butt to divert Marus' aim upwards.

They went on like that for a good five minutes, bullets zipped past their faces and body with only air to hit. Heat from where their slugs that went past turned the cold sky air hot.

They both ran out of ammo again. Nathan reloaded his rifle while swinging the rifle's barrel towards Marus arm. Marus reloaded both his guns with the clips tucked in his belt with the same motion he used to duck Nathan's swing.

And then they continued firing at each other.

After another good five minutes of shooting, Marus was able to end it by hooking Nathan's knee with his foot. The moment the man was about to kneel down from his unexpected move, Marus kicked again, sending Nathan flying a few feet away.

Nathan staggered to his feet clutching his chest and panting but still holding that railgun. "You're still the best of the Siblings, Raidi. It is a shame you do not share our views."

"Go away, Nathan."

The shadows spiraled towards his brother while the man just laughed. "You should know, Raidi, that the dirge for the dead never ceases."

What did that mean?

The shadows engulfed Nathan and disappeared. But the moment proper light came back; Marus saw a dropstick falling from where Nathan's chest had been.

Muttering a string of curses, Marus ran as fast as he could towards the edge of the roof. The moment his foot landed on the ledge, he bent his knees slowly as he angled down. As soon as he saw the city lights right below him, he kicked as hard as could. His move sent him at a headlong course parallel the building's wall and straight for the ground.

He was somewhere a hundred feet from the roof. In his mind, Marus pictured the dropstick falling. It was probably four feet from detonating whatever bomb was close by.

Two hundred feet from the roof . . . the dropstick was only two feet from hitting the rooftop. Marus was now besides the building's glass paned walls, shocked workers and residents stared out at him the instant he went by their offices thinking he was a suicide jumper.

Two-fifty . . . the flapping of his trench coat was the only sound he heard as he kept on with his dive.

One foot

Three hundred.

In his mind, Marus heard the detonator's plastic hitting concrete. The sound echoed in his mind. There was a moment of absolute silence.

He felt the rumble first. It was an ominous sound that started from the roof and traveled through the wall. The vibrations he felt where tremendous when they passed him by. Then, another set of vibrations went past him . . . from the ground up.

Shit! Nathan rigged the bomb from the top and bottom!

Glass shattered from above and below him filling the air with the sound of a thousand chimes. Marus had to cross his arms in front of his face to keep the flying glass shards away from his only good eye.

Seconds after the glass, the building rumbled again. This time however, flames shot out from every floor. The explosions followed each other in rapid succession and coming closer towards Marus.

Before the explosions reached Marus, however, the shadows caused by the harsh light from the flames were thick enough for him to use to transport himself out of this raging inferno.

The shadows engulfed him, sheltering him with their cold embrace, shutting off the heat of the now falling building.

Janet and Denise, along with Alfred and his two bodyguards walked down the halls of a museum that was once Prontera's Sanctuary. Their trip to the Underground's headquarters left Denise in a confused daze and one look at the Assassin behind her told her that Janet felt the same. The two of them were sure they went down that long winding stairwell that to Alfred's headquarters, but the next thing they knew, the five of them were exiting from the front of the building with Janet and Denise with absolutely no memory of what they had done in there.

Alfred, however, seemed to be in a brooding mood they stepped out. Not much like the joking and confident man they met in that alley. He told them that he would help them and keep them out of trouble, but that was all he said to them. Most of the time, he just told them where to go and what to look for.

Their search wound them up here, in the now empty halls of the museum at closing time. How Alfred was able to get the guards outside to look the other way without even talking to them was beyond Denise. Maybe he bribed them. At the thought, Denise shuddered. She never did like political corruption. Her father was the King, after all.

The ring of metal behind them told Denise that Janet was testing her new knives again. Alfred explained to them that the two four-inch-long two-and-a-half-inch-wide daggers were mainly used by soldiers in the field when they run out of . . . "ammo"? The terminology in this time was confusing to her, Denise thought ruefully.

But nevertheless, Janet obviously liked the two knives she was weighing on the palms of her hands. A test with an apple told them exactly how sharp they were. "Good balance." Janet said approvingly while tossing the knives on her palms.

Alfred's footsteps suddenly stopped. Startled both Denise and the Assassin looked at the man. But when they looked at Alfred's direction, it was what the man was looking at that caught their attention.

Bull's horns glinted in the little light that went through the Sanctuary's stained glass windows, the ground shook as the monster descended from the stairs leading to the altar, and an enormous hammer peeked from behind the thing's back.

"What the fuck is that!" Alfred shouted while drawing his guns.

"It's a minorus!" Janet replied and charged forward with knives in hand.

The hammer went down on the floor with a tremendous boom but it missed the Assassin when she quickly jumped to the side. When the monster raised the hammer once more, Janet jumped up and slashed with both daggers. Acrid red blood spewed out from the stump of what was the monster's arm. The hammer and severed limb fell to the floor, breaking displayed seats and ancient floor tiles.

Janet then used the minorus' chest as a stepping stone so she could jump above the monster's head. The Assassin landed on the monster's shoulder, and before the minorus could react, Janet jammed both blades through its eyes and the base of its spine.

With a roar that shook the Sanctuary, the minorus fell to the floor writhing in pain. When the monster finally died a few seconds later, Janet pulled out the blades and replaced them in their sheaths.

"I've got to admit, you girlfriend's got the moves." Alfred grinned at Denise.

Girlfriend? Denise blushed all the way to her scalp at what Alfred insinuated. "I am not her – Janet, look out!" Denise screamed when another minorus appeared from the shadows charging towards the Assassin with its hammer raised.

Too late, the hammer was already halfway on its way to crush Janet.

Suddenly, the hammer just stopped as if hit by an impregnable force. The air rippled from the force of the blow when the hammer hit an unseen wall. That was when Alfred screamed in pain clutching his head.

"Boss!" one of the bodyguards started for the now kneeling Alfred. Janet started to run for the man, concern written all over her face.

"I'll be fine!" Alfred snapped. After a very short moment Alfred shouted at his two men, "Well? What the hell are you two morons waiting for! SHOOT!"

The Sanctuary's empty halls became filled with the rhythmic sound of automatic gunfire when the two bodyguards took out their "Uzis" and unloaded all their bullets into the minorus.

Blood splattered all over the floor and sprayed the air red as every round hit the monster. When the bodyguards' weapons were empty, the minorus stared blankly into the air and fell backwards on top of the first monster.

They all sighed in relief – until the ground shook. The tremor was so strong that some of the chandeliers on the ceiling actually swayed and rattled.

"That was from outside!" Alfred started in surprise. The man's nose was bleeding rather profusely but he didn't seem to notice – or maybe care.

All five of them ran back to the exit. What they saw outside was terrible. Prontera's – Neyus's – tallest building, an incredible structure that literally pierced the clouds, was burning from every floor. Sirens from the city fire fighters wailed in the distance and they never seemed to stop. The night sky was as day from the blaze.

"We have to save those people!" Denise reached into her belt pack for a blue gem. If she could get close enough to the building, she might be able make a portal inside it without having to memorize the location.

But before she could even pull out a stone, Janet grabbed her hand. "No, Denise, those people are dead."

"How could you say that? They need our help!" Denise struggled to free her hand but the Assassin was physically stronger than she was.

Janet's eyes blazed with anger as she spoke. "You hired me to keep you from being fucked! That means I get to order you around when times like these show up!"

At any normal time, Janet's language would have been shocking, but Denise just glared at the Assassin while still trying to pull out a gem. "How could you be so cold!"

Before she knew it, Denise felt sharp steel right under her chin. "Get your hands off that pouch, _Princess_! If I have to cut your throat to prove my point, I will! There is no point killing yourself for a defeated cause. Those people are dead!" The nighttime fire burned in Janet's blue eyes.

Forcing her hand out of the pouch, she gave the burning tower one last look before falling on Janet, crying. "How could anyone do this? What kind of a man is capable of this!"

The Assassin just stroked her hair giving her comforting words. "Hush, Denise. There is not much we can do now but pray for the living. Hush."

But Denise just cried even harder when she heard the thunderous roar of the building crumbling down on itself.

Alfred placed his hand on Denise's shoulder with a sympathetic look on his face. Despite the garishness of his clothes and jewelry and the blood on his nose, the emotion actually seemed genuine. "You know, I once had a friend who lost his wife in an attack like that," he waved his other hand towards the building, "he told me that there is a saying once. 'Death to the guilty. Justice for the dead.' It's a cruel and hard belief, but it helped him get through life."

Death to the guilty and justice for the dead . . . that phrase sounded familiar.

With realization and shock, Denise broke off from Janet's embrace. She looked at Alfred while wiping away tears. "Where did you hear that?" she asked.

Puzzled, Alfred stared at her. "From a friend of mine from when I was with the Secret Service . . . why?"

"His name! What was his name?" Death to the guilty was Marus' favorite phrase and philosophy. It was what he believed with all his heart as an agent for the Fates. And if this "friend" isn't Marus, then this person must at least know him if he had found out about that philosophy.

Alfred frowned, trying to remember. "Ummm . . . John . . . John Marshal. But I think he might be dead. Every kid that came out from psi-corps was hit with government cleaners for practically every day of their lives. I might be the only one left!"

Denise grabbed the man by the collar. "There must be a chance he lives! He's the only person I now know might have contact with the person we're looking for!"

"Why are you so desperate to find this man!"

It was Janet who answered. "We are looking for a man that can't die. A man that we need to bring back home so we can fix a problem only he can face. If we do not complete this mission soon, those bull monsters back in the Sanctua –" Janet cut herself off and continued with little pause, "museum will be the least of your worries."

Alfred grimaced at the perceived truth of it. "All right, I'll go to my sources, maybe they can find a few things here and there." After a moment's pause, Alfred looked at them and said, "You know . . . come to think of it, things _are_ getting a little weird in the city . . . the terrorists, the vigilantes, and now the monsters. I hope you're not getting me into any weird shit." He wiped at his nose and seemed surprised at the blood he found on his hands.

Denise just saw Janet smile in response. Despite herself, she also did.


End file.
